


a nice cure for hypothermia

by zeldamonkey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Comeplay, Gangbang, Multi, OT5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldamonkey/pseuds/zeldamonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Harry looking cold and miserable on Clevedon Pier. </p>
<p>What's the best cure for hypothermia? Don't ask a boyband, they're probably not very good at science.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a nice cure for hypothermia

**Author's Note:**

> this is really inexcusable, sorry.
> 
> so, let's pretend they all drove back to london from clevedon pier together in one of those giant humvee limos, instead of however they actually got back, which I assume was in their private planes or helicopters or in a boat with harry's hair for a sail.
> 
> warning for every fandom characterisation cliché I could think of, except that niall doesn't eat anything or even talk about food the whole time. weird, I know.

Harry waits until they're in the limo on their way back to London before he lets himself whinge, but then he really goes for it. It's been a miserable day from start to finish, the wind biting even through his hundreds of layers of clothes, and he wants a bit of looking after.

"Hey, I'm cold," he says. Nobody pays him any attention, so he pokes Louis and Liam, sitting on either side of him. "Lads, I said I'm co-o-old."

Louis doesn’t look up from his phone. "Shut up, Harold, we're all cold. Nobody wants to hear your bitching."

Liam's a bit more sympathetic. He puts his hand on Harry's forehead, and Harry can't help the shiver that runs through him at the feeling of Liam's warm fingers on his icy skin. 

"Shit, Lou, he really is cold," Liam says, frowning. He takes his hand off for a second then puts it back on, like he didn't believe it the first time. "Like, proper freezing."

"I think you're meant to use the back of your hand to check someone's temperature," Zayn puts in from the seats opposite, but Louis ignores him and knocks Liam's fingers off Harry's forehead, replacing them with his own.

"Huh," he says, after a minute. "You _are_ cold."

"I know. I've been saying." Harry pouts. "Warm me up?"

"Want my coat? Or Zayn's scarf?" Liam offers, already shifting forward to strip off. "Or I could get the driver to turn the heating up." He goes for the intercom button but Louis grabs his hand before he can press it. He's watching Harry with a calculating expression on his face.

"I'm not sure that's quite what you meant, is it, Harold?"

Harry shakes his head, pleased that Louis gets it. They're not always on the same wavelength these days, but when they are it's brilliant. "No, I'm like, cold on the inside, too. I need proper looking after."

"On the inside?" Liam repeats, dumbly. "What?"

Zayn and Niall, opposite, don't say anything. Harry hopes that's because they've caught on and are happy to go along with it. After a long moment of just watching, Louis raises an eyebrow at Harry, as if to say, _you sure about this?_ Harry shivers, from cold or anticipation or probably a bit of both, and nods. 

It's enough to snap Louis into action. "Right, lads, Harry says he needs warming up. We're not going to leave him to get hypothermia, are we? Zayn, you get his mouth, Niall, you take his hands, Liam can have his arse and I'll look after his cock, alright? Get going."

Next thing Harry knows, his jumper's been shoved up, his pants down, and he’s on all fours above Zayn, who's lying on one of the long bench seats. Louis can be startlingly efficient, when he puts his mind to it.

"Hey, Haz," Zayn says, looking up at him with a lazy smile. "Lou says I've got your mouth, so. Fancy a snog?"

"Yes, please," Harry says, and ducks down to taste Zayn's mouth, because he’s a nice, polite boy, and also because Louis has just put his hand on Harry's cock, and he likes to be kissed whilst getting a handjob. Besides, although snogging Zayn is always good, today it’s especially lovely because Harry's cold and Zayn tastes a bit like smoke and smoke means fire and fire is hot, so that’s nice.

"Hot," he tells Zayns mouth, and Zayn chuckles into the kiss and wraps a hand around the back of Harry's neck, which is also nice. Everything is nice, nice, nice.

Then something prickly and bristly scrapes his bare bum cheeks, and that’s less nice. "What?" he says, trying to pull back to see, but Zayn's hand keeps him in place.

"It's just Liam, mate, he's gonna warm your arse up," Niall says from somewhere off to Harry’s left, and oh, that’s right, Liam has that horrible growth on his face that he’s calling a beard. Also, why is Niall not touching him yet? That is wrong and needs to be fixed immediately. Harry shifts his weight onto his right arm and sticks his left out in Niall's general direction, making grabby hands.

"Alright, hold your horses," Niall says, and then he’s wrapping Harry's fingers around his lovely warm cock. "Fuckin' Christ your hand is cold, Haz," he says, but he doesn’t object when Harry tightens his grip and starts stroking him, so Harry thinks it’s probably alright.

Harry's starting to warm up, with all this going on, but it’s getting very hard to coordinate things. He has to kiss Zayn, stroke Niall, not wriggle too much for Liam's mouth on his bum, and keep his hips up high enough that he isn’t suffocating Louis, who's snuck in between Harry and Zayn to take the head of Harry's cock in his mouth. 

"Mmph," Harry says against Zayn's lips. "Mmph mmph."

"Y'alright there, Haz?" Niall says. Harry hadn't been talking to him, but he supposes it makes sense for Niall to respond as he’s the only one of the boys whose mouth isn’t otherwise occupied. He sounds a bit short of breath, which Harry takes as a compliment on his skills. Harry’s the fucking master of handjobs.

"Mmph," Harry says again, and shifts his arse away from Liam's face, because whilst he has to concede that Liam's bristly beard is warming him up back there, it’s also starting to get a bit uncomfortable, scraping against delicate skin. "Mm mmn mph."

"Really? Oi, Payno, I think he’s saying he wants fucking," Niall says. That isn’t exactly what Harry'd meant, but it will definitely solve the problem he's having with Liam’s beard, so he makes an agreeable noise and wiggles his bum again. 

The scratchy heat on his arse disappears, and he hears Liam say, "Sick, okay. Niall, I'm nicking your sunscreen for lube, but has anyone got a condom?" 

Zayn’s takes his mouth away from Harry's to answer. "Nah, but you should do him without, warm fluids are good for hypothermia."

"Really? Warm fluids?" Harry murmurs, frowning, a bit grossed out. 

"Science, Haz," Zayn says, before going back to kissing him, and oh, well, if it’s science, Harry won’t argue. Anyway, it turns out it doesn’t really matter what he thinks, because a moment later he feels Liam's big hands on his hips and Liam’s cock nudging up against his hole. 

"'Kay, Haz, I'm going in," Liam says. "Try not to choke Tommo, alright? We need him."

It’s probably fortunate that Louis is looking out for himself and takes his mouth off Harry's cock just as Liam pushes in, because despite Harry's best efforts he can’t hold still. Liam’s big and wide and he really hadn't stretched Harry enough, but Harry doesn’t mind because the little bit of burn is doing a good job of warming him up. Plus, Niall's sunscreen smells like coconut, which reminds Harry of summer, when it's hot, so that's nice, too.

"How's he feel, Payno?' Niall asks.

"Good," Liam says, and if it were anyone else Harry might be offended at the lacklustre praise, but it isn’t Liam's fault he isn't the best with words. He’s pretty clever with his cock, anyway, fucking into Harry with little short jabs, and isn't that more important?

"Looks pretty fuckin' brilliant from here," Niall says.

Harry thinks that’s nice of him, so he stops kissing Zayn for a second to say, "You can fuck me after, Nialler, if you want."

Niall's cock jerks in Harry’s hand. "Yeah? You - fuck, Harry, yes."

"Hey," Zayn says, frowning. "That's not fair. He's already getting a handjob, he shouldn't get to fuck you, too, when no one's even got my cock out yet."

"Or mine," Louis says, reappearing from under Harry. "Don't play favourites, Harry, it's not nice."

Harry doesn’t like being called 'not nice'. He’s a polite, well-brought up young man and everyone should know it. He clenches experimentally around Liam's cock - he's not sore at all, not really - and mentally shrugs. What the hell. "You can all fuck me, then, if you'd like?"

Zayn blinks up at him. "You serious?"

Harry shrugs. Liam’s still rutting into him with short little strokes and it’s making it hard to think. "Sure, why not. Plenty of warm fluids, right?"

"Fuck," says Zayn, all his usual eloquence gone, and pulls Harry down into another kiss. It’s well timed, because Liam suddenly groans and speeds up, pistoning into Harry hard and fast, and if he weren’t kissing Zayn, Harry might be making some very embarrassing noises at the feeling of Liam coming inside him, hot and wet.

"Bloody hell, Hazza," Liam gasps, fingers so tight on Harry's hips they’re almost painful. "That was - fuck." His softening cock slips out and Harry feels a little wet trickle down the inside of his thigh. He clenches down and tilts his bum up as much as he can; he doesn't want to waste any warmth.

"Right, lads, who's next?" Louis asks, before Liam's even caught his breath or gotten out of the way. Apparently he's on board with Harry's suggestion that they all have a go. "Nialler, you up?"

"Yeah, won't last though, he's already got me pretty close," Niall says, and Harry feels the seat dip behind him as the boys swap positions. He tries to concentrate on kissing Zayn as Niall lines himself up and shoves in without further preamble. Niall’s a bit thicker than Liam with a slight curve to the left, and he has Harry pushing back into his thrusts in seconds, even as he launches into his usual running commentary.

"That's the way, Harry, gorgeous, I fuckin' love the way you look when you're takin' my cock, go on, take it."

Harry feels Zayn smile against his lips, and he can’t help smiling back. He fucking loves Nialler, they all do, but Niall really does watch way too much porn. 

"Ah, you're so fuckin' wet for it, you want it, tell me how much you love my cock," he's saying, and Harry says,

"Yeah, s'good, Nialler, I like it," because it’s only polite to respond when someone is speaking to you. Zayn giggles, but thankfully Niall doesn’t seem to notice. Anyway, Harry must have warmed him Niall up nicely before - he is indeed the master of handjobs - because it's hardly any time at all before he's breathless and hammering in hard. 

"Ahh, Christ, you're gonna make me come already, Hazza, Jesus, that's it, just like that - "

"Do it, if you're going to," Louis breaks in, impatient, "I want my go," and Niall says, 

"Fuck off, Tommo, would you let a man finish in peace - ahh, fuckin' hell, fuck - oh - oh - ngggh."

Harry's so wet now it's almost ridiculous. He’s also not cold at all anymore, but he isn’t going to say anything and risk missing out on the rest of the boys. 

Not that Louis would let him.

"Right, my turn, out of the way, chop chop," Louis says brightly, and Harry twists around to glare at him. Niall had been running his hands over Harry's bum in the aftermath of his orgasm, and Harry'd been rather enjoying it. Niall has really nice hands.

"Sorry, Haz," Niall says, slipping out of him with an unsexily wet noise. He gives Harry's bum cheeks a last gentle squeeze as he shifts out of the way and lets Louis in. "That was brilliant, though. You've got a fuckin' fantastic arse on ya, did ya know?"

"Shut up, he doesn't need to hear that, his head's big enough already," Louis says brusquely, and reaches around to give Harry's cock a squeeze, "and I'm not talking about this one, either, no matter what he might think."

"Don't be rude, Louis," Harry says, even as he pushes his cock forward into Louis' fist. It's been awhile since anyone's paid any attention to it and it feels lovely. "It's not nice to talk about me as if I'm not here."

"Ooh, not nice," Louis says, mocking. He lets go of Harry's cock and parts Harry's bum cheeks with his hands instead, running a finger over Harry's wet hole, making Harry squirm. "And is this how a nice boy behaves, young Harold, letting four men fuck him in the back of a moving vehicle?"

"You don't have to have a go if you don't want to," Harry says, as Louis pushes a couple of fingers into him. God, he’s so wet and Louis is making such a mess with it, it really is embarrassing. Harry’s jeans are still around his thighs because the boys hadn't undressed him properly. They’re going to be ruined. "I mean, if you think it's not nice. You don't have to."

"I'm not a nice boy, though," Louis says, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his cock so fast that Harry hardly knows it’s happening. "Am I?"

"No," Harry agrees, trying not to shove back onto Louis' cock. God it feels good to be filled up like this.

"No. I'm not a nice boy at all," Louis says. "And that's good, because it means I can do this," a swivel of his hips as he drives in, "and this," a thrust so good Harry's vision goes a but blurry, "and this," and he wraps his fingers around Harry's cock just as he bottoms out and Harry jolts forwards and comes, totally unexpected, all over Zayn.

"Fucking hell, Lou, you just got jizz all over my fucking Gucci jumper, you douche," Zayn yelps. He’s being very loud, or maybe Harry's ears are just ringing from his orgasm; they do that sometimes.

"I think you mean Harry did," Louis says, still fucking Harry in a leisurely sort of way, casual rolls of his hips like he has all the time in the world. "Harry, apologise please, it's not nice to get come on Zayn's designer knitwear."

"Sorry, Zayn," Harry says, though he doesn’t mean it as much as he should; it'd felt so good to come, and anyway he’s concentrating on trying not to shiver from overstimulation. He loves getting fucked after coming, it makes everything so sharp and bright and just the right side of too much, but he can't let Louis know how much he’s enjoying it or he'll be insufferable.

Zayn’s still looking very annoyed. "No, not good enough, Louis," he says. Harry feels a sharp stab of guilt, and manages to get himself under control enough to press a quick kiss to Zayn's pursed lips.

"Sorry, Zayn, really," he whispers, "I'll get it dry cleaned for you."

"Louis will get it dry cleaned for me," Zayn says, loudly, "and he'll fucking take it and pay for it himself, not get his assistant to do it, it was his fucking fault."

"Do you think we could talk about your laundry later, Malik?" Louis says, and Harry’s gratified to notice that there’s finally a bit of strain in his voice. "I'm a bit busy here, just at the moment."

He is, too, clearly focusing on his own pleasure now rather than Harry’s, but it still feels pretty fucking amazing to be on the receiving end. Harry's always thought it’s because Lou's dick is the smallest out of all the boys; it's made him work harder at knowing how to use it. Harry's glad, anyway, that Louis isn’t just pounding away at him like Liam and Niall had done. He's getting quite sore, a familiar sort of used feeling that he only gets when he's had a really marathon fuck, or, you know, taken three dicks in half an hour. And he still has Zayn to go.

"Are you close, Tommo?" Niall suddenly says, and Harry startles. He'd almost forgotten the other boys were here. Louis’s cock is a rather all-consuming experience.

"Maybe," Louis grunts, "why, do you want to go again?"

"No!" Harry yelps, reflexively. He couldn't. Could he?

"Come on, now, Harry, don't be rude," Louis says. 

"'M not being rude, 's just a lot," Harry says, starting to hope that Louis will just get a move on and finish already, before Harry does something really embarrassing like get hard again at the thought of Niall having another go, of all the boys going again. Louis'd take it as a compliment to himself, is the thing. 

"Don't worry, Haz," Niall says, "I was only asking cause Tommo looked like he was - ah, there ya go, there's the money shot," as Louis grinds in deep, pressing his hips tight to Harry's and circling them, coming into Harry’s arse. He doesn't make any noise with it, which is a change; he’d always used to make an awful sort of bleating sound that’d made Harry laugh. Harry's not sure if the quiet, dignified Tomlinson orgasm is an improvement. He likes a laugh, when he’s having sex.

When Louis finally pulls out, Harry has to resist the urge to flop all over Zayn. He's properly done in, now, sweaty and sticky with come, feeling sore and used, and worse, his jeans are definitely ruined, and they were his favourites. But poor Zayn's been stuck underneath Harry this whole time with no one paying any attention to him, _and_ he's had his jumper messed up. He deserves something nice. 

“You alright, Haz?” Zayn asks, quietly. Harry can feel how hard Zayn is, bulging up against the zip of his jeans. “I don’t have to, if it’s too much.”

Harry shakes his head. "It’s not. I want to.” He bites his lip; Zayn really deserves a reward, for being so thoughtful. “I could ride you?" he offers.

“Can you?” Zayn looks doubtful. It’s true, Harry’s tired, but he’s sure he can manage. 

“I’ll help,” Liam says, and oh, that’s an excellent idea. Liam’s strong enough these days to do pretty much anything, he can definitely help Harry bounce in Zayn’s lap for a bit.

Harry lets Liam lift him up temporarily, so Zayn can get his pants off. They don't bother slicking Zayn up at all; Harry's wet enough already. He suspects he's going to be smelling coconut sunscreen for days. Between that and his sore bum it'll be like Miami all over again.

When Zayn's got his cock out, Liam helps Harry kneel up over it and sink down in one smooth slide. For all that Harry's worn out, Zayn’s dick feels perfect, not too fat, not too thin, not too long, not too short. “Your dick is Goldilocks,” Harry tells him dreamily, and the other boys laugh. It’s okay, Harry doesn’t mind. Not everyone appreciates his literary allusions.

At least Zayn's got good manners. "Thanks, Hazza," he says, smiling up at him, and Harry rewards him with an extra little squeeze as he lifts up and sinks down again. It's a good thing Liam's helping him, he's not sure his thighs are going to last very long in this position. 

It turns out he doesn't need to worry. They've only just got a rhythm going when Niall shuffles up next to them and sneaks a hand in where Zayn's cock's being swallowed up by Harry's arse. He's all gentle curiosity at first, stroking around Harry's puffy rim, but then he starts pressing in with the tip of a finger. Harry makes an inquiring noise and stops moving.

"Can I?" Niall says. "Saw it in a porno once, it looked hot."

"Go on, Haz, you can take it," Liam says from behind him, urging him gently down, and what the hell, Harry thinks for the second time that evening. Why not give it a go?

Embarrassingly enough, after the first few seconds of stretch Harry hardly feels the difference, but judging from the noises Zayn's making, Liam's groan, Niall's string of expletives, and Louis' expression, they all think he's pretty amazing. 

"Fuckin hell, Hazza," Zayn breathes. Harry grins at him. He's gotten hard again, somewhere between thinking about letting the boys all have another go, and Zayn's lovely cock, and everyone being so impressed by him. It's a nice feeling.

"Can I put another one in?" Niall says. 

Harry shrugs. "Go on, then," and the next time he slides down, Niall's tucked a second finger alongside his first, and that's even better.

The only real downside to this excellent experiment is that Zayn's gone all tense and nearly stopped breathing under him, and the third time Harry sinks down on his cock along with Niall's fingers he makes a funny choked off noise and shudders a bit and comes, just like that. It's a pity because Harry reckoned he might have been able to manage three fingers. It would've been fun to see the look on Louis' face if he had, anyway.

"Come on, Haz, I'll help you off," Liam says, and he's as good as his word, lifting Harry up like he weighs nothing and swinging him across to the opposite row of seats so he can lie down. Harry makes a mental note to make sure they tip the driver really well; Liam's just put Harry's bare arse on the seat and he's pretty sure he's ruined the upholstery.

"Looks like you might need a hand, there, mate," Niall says, and Harry mumbles something agreeable and pats his dick, lying stiff against his stomach. There's no urgency to it, and he could probably just nap the rest of the way home, to be honest, but if someone wants to get him off again he won't say no.

"I think Lou should suck him off," Zayn says, "and swallow, too, stop him making a mess again."

That sounds alright to Harry, and unusually Louis doesn't argue, just crouches between Harry's spread legs and goes to work, sucking Harry's dick like it's a lollipop. It’s not long at all before Harry’s coming, spurting over Louis' tongue with a satisfied sigh. Louis sucks him through it, then pushes himself up over Harry and kisses him, wet and pornographic, and when Harry opens up for him, Louis feeds him a mouthful of come. 

"Fuckin hell," he hears Niall swearing. "Did he just - ?"

Harry shrugs, swallows, and keeps licking into Louis’ mouth. Louis'd probably been trying to gross Harry out, but the thing is that Harry doesn’t mind the taste of his own come; it's just one of the many benefits of eating so much fruit. He's told the lads to try it but he's pretty sure they've not listened to him.

Louis finally pulls back. "Enough warm fluids for you, Styles?"

"Hmm, just about," Harry says, though to be honest his dick's getting a little bit cold, lying wet against his bare thigh. Evaporation, he thinks. Science. But he's too tired to go again. He yawns. "Hey, thanks for the fuck, lads. Was nice."

"Thank _you_ , mate," Niall says, and Liam and Zayn chime in with their thanks as well. Yeah, Harry thinks as he drifts off to sleep. His boys are so nice.

 

He startles awake to the car intercom buzzing to life and the driver saying, "Mr Styles, we've arrived." 

He blinks, trying to orient himself. Oh yeah: they'd been coming back from filming at the pier, and - he shifts, then winces; that's going to be uncomfortable for a day or two - the boys had looked after him. He must have slept through the others being dropped off, because he's alone in the back of the car. They've left him a parting gift, though: they've tied the scarf he'd been using as a headband around his limp dick like a little flag. It looks quite good, he thinks, though it does make it tricky to get his jeans up so he can run the gauntlet of fans up to his front door.

He gets all the way into his house before he realises he'd forgotten to tip the driver. Shit. 

Oh well. He'll get his assistant to sort it out in the morning. Maybe he'll send some apology flowers for the ruined upholstery, too. He's a nice boy, after all.


End file.
